


Heart in a headlock

by megyal



Category: Live Free or Die Hard (2007)
Genre: Angst and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:41:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's suddenly a new man in McClane's life, and it's giving Matt all kinds of <i>feelings</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart in a headlock

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [sexy_right](http://sexy-right.livejournal.com)'s Word Warm-up Challenge. The Word-list I chose was this: headphones, apocalypse, cocoon, authority, pallor.

Living with McClane was a lot quieter than Matt had expected. Honestly, he hadn't known what exactly to expect, but it really hadn't been this serene in any of his musings. When he keyed open the door in the evenings, the apartment was a cocoon of soothing stillness, distinct especially after the buzzing tension in his office. McClane could be home, or not, depending on what happened at _his_ workplace for the day. When he did stride in, mouth pinched into a fine line that restrains all unnecessary speech, it seemed as if he enhanced that quiet safety that Matt could really appreciate.

Matt liked being in his room by himself, but as soon as he felt that shift in the air indicating McClane's presence, he would invariably tug his headphones from off his head and amble into the living room. McClane might talk to him, maybe not. Depending on their mood, they could go all evening without a single word. Matt, who had once felt the persistent need to let the air feel the lash of his words, figured that being in near-death situations triggered a need to just keep low, keep quiet. 

It was actually really nice all over. Once, he'd been sitting on the couch beside McClane, staring at some cage-fighting match on the screen. He hadn't realized he'd been practically grimacing until he heard a softly gruff voice say, "Farrell. What's the matter with you?"

"Hmm?" Matt had turned his head and then winced at the sharp pain in his neck. "What?"

McClane had reached out with his closest hand, and grasped Matt by the arm. Gently, he pushed at Matt until he turned around, facing away from McClane, one side pressed against the back of the couch. Without a word of complaint or a hint of resistance Matt curled his legs into himself and sighed as McClane's rough fingers began to press into the rigid muscles of his neck and shoulders.

"Hmm. Nice." Matt felt boneless relaxation trickle in waves down his body. He could fall asleep like this; the apartment was mostly dark, with just a standing lamp in a corner casting a tight circle of warm golden light onto the wooden floor-boards. He _was_ falling asleep when he murmured, "I could get used to this."

McClane's fingers hesitated, warm through the material of Matt's shirt. It bugged Matt a little, to think of him _hesitating_ like that. McClane didn't hesitate. Feet-first, get to it, that was the McClane code of conduct.

Then, quietly, McClane said, "Yeah. Me too."

Matt woke up the next morning in his own bed, with a serious case of morning wood caused by a recurring dream of McClane's crooked grin and bared torso. Quietly, he jacked himself off because it was still early enough and peaceful enough to hear McClane's slow breaths filtering through their open doors.

Then, it all got kind of loud.

+

Matt saw McClane talking to this guy on the short flight of stairs which led up to the front door of the brownstone. He slowed down, hitching the backpack slung over one shoulder just a little higher and watched them for a little bit. McClane was standing on the landing, and he was smiling down at the other man with a kind of fixed delightedness. It made Matt a little bit dizzy to see that focused glee on McClane's usually taciturn face. The guy was on the step right below McClane, leaning against the wrought-iron railing. He had brown, curly hair and dark green eyes which narrowed when he noticed Matt standing there. He jerked his very manly chin towards Matt and said to McClane, "This him, John?"

McClane turned and his open smile disappeared a little. It hurt something a little in Matt's chest.

"Yeah," McClane said, whirling his small bunch of keys by the ring about one finger "This is Farrell."

The guy rose up off the railing and trotted down to Matt, holding out his hand with smooth authority. "Jay. Nice to meet you, man."

"Same here," Matt said on autopilot, shaking his hand, because while his parents didn't really care if he ate or not as he was growing up, at least his dad's sister had got some manners into him. "So. I'm gonna. Go inside."

McClane looked between the two of them for a moment and Matt could feel how he was weighing them against each other. Jay stuck his hands in the pocket of his jeans, rocked back and forth on his heels for a few beats and said, "Look, the suspense is killing me here, someone open the fucking door."

"You curse a lot," McClane said, laughing a little and shaking his head at Jay. "Didn't know that about you."

Jay grinned as McClane pushed his key into the door and turned it. "There's a lot you need to learn about me, John," he said, quite cheerfully, and Matt wondered if there was steam coming out of his own ears.

+

Jay was _loud_ and he made McClane laugh a lot. He claimed that they were the Two Fail Horsemen of the Apocalypse, and drank beer with McClane. Their loud speech set up waves of dissonance, rippling to Matt even after he had escaped to his room. 

"Not watching the game?" McClane asked when he emerged once to snag some juice. 

"Nah," Matt said, not looking at how they sat on the couch together. Jay was in Matt's space. "It's cool. Got some work to finish."

"Come on," Jay coaxed. "The world's not going to end if you don't code something."

Matt frowned a little. Jay seemed to know a lot about him. Where had McClane met him, anyway? Why was he even here, drinking out of Matt's favourite blue cup, all comfortable in the couch with McClane and not silently limp like Matt usually was. 

"It might," he returned and managed a tremulous smile as Jay burst into laughter and McClane seemed torn between amusement and a thin frown. "Anyway, good night."

"Wait," McClane said, getting up. "A minute, Farrell."

"I'll just order a pizza," Jay said, and he was going to be here for _longer_? Matt bit the inside of his lip, striding back to his own room with McClane a few steps behind. In his room, which was the bigger one of the apartment, Matt caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror mounted on the outside of the cupboard door; he shook his head at the general pallor of his face. It was a mixture of his natural paleness and a strange wrenching in his stomach when he thought about how Jay and McClane seemed to fit together more easily, more naturally than the two of them.

McClane stepped in, and closed the door. He leaned against it and stared at Matt.

"You got a problem with Jay, kid?" he asked and Matt shrugged, shoulders moving wearily.

"No? Does it matter, anyway?"

"Yeah." McClane kept staring at him. "Matters to me, _anyway_."

Matt rolled his eyes, suddenly angry and annoyed. "Doesn't to me. I mean, I don't know him the way you know him, whatever, and he's better for you, I guess."

McClane was now staring at him as if Matt had sprouted wires out of his ears. "Better?"

"You know what I mean." Matt couldn't look in his face, so he folded his arms and focused on the corner of his room, where a battered pair of Vans rested against one another. "It's not like me and you were going anywhere further than _this_ \--"

McClane put up a hand, cop stopping traffic. "Hold up. You wanted me and you to go _somewhere_?"

Matt felt his cheeks burn and he kept his gaze firmly fixed on his shoes. "Well, yeah. Who wouldn't?"

"I got a list of people who wouldn't, Farrell," McClane said, dryly. "About as long as my arm. But I'm not exactly the best choice for you, you know?"

"I know what I want," Matt mumbled. "Even if I know I can't get it, I know what I want."

McClane made a funny sound in the back of his throat, and then stepped forward into Matt's space. He stood close enough for Matt to feel the heat of his body, and when Matt finally slanted a look up at his face, McClane was staring at him with eyes half-lidded. Matt felt a slow coil of arousal near his groin. He licked his lips and McClane bent his head, pressing their mouths together and chasing Matt's tongue with his own.

Matt sighed soundlessly and arched up, pressing his chest against McClane's. It felt hard and Matt wanted to get his shirt off and feel the warmth of his skin. Matt wasn't exactly a kissing expert, but he was pretty sure he'd never been kissed so thoroughly, as if McClane wanted to know exactly how the back of his teeth tasted.

"Mmm." Matt pulled away and blinked up at McClane's face. McClane looked fairly calm, but his eyes seemed darker than usual. "What...what about Jay?"

McClane's mouth twisted. "What _about_ Jay?"

Matt wanted to kiss him again, and gave into the want, running his hands down McClane's back. 

"I know he takes after his mother," McClane said when Matt pulled away again. "But maybe the eyes he gets from me, I think."

Matt stared at him for a very long time. "Wait. Jay...Jay's _Jack?_ "

McClane managed to look torn between amusement and exasperation. "Yeah. Apparently, he grew out of the 'Jack'. The 'McClane' too, like Lucy." He rolled his eyes a little. "He's thinking about growing back into it. They call their step-father _Dad_ ," he said, in a very distant tone.

"Oh," Matt said. "That's...that's how it goes sometimes, man. Jay's _Jack_ ," he finished in wonderment and relief, not even noticing when McClane gave him an almost affectionate peck on the lips. 

"You think I go around picking up young guys?" McClane asked, eyebrows raised a little. "That what you really think, Farrell?"

"You picked me up," Matt pointed out. "When we met, first."

"I was practically arresting you," McClane pointed out. "And I don't go around picking up random younger guys."

Matt smiled. "Got it." He smiled, and felt quiet inside.

Until Jay yelled from the other side of the door, "What the fuck are you guys doing in there? I'm super-hungry, gonna order that pizza now! John, you good with pepperoni? You too, Farrell? Okay, cool," and his footsteps stomped heavily towards the living room again.

"He's pretty loud," Matt said and McClane laughed a little, kissing him again.

"Takes after his mother," McClane said, and pressed him against the door.

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> The summary is actually from a prompt posted for the [July 4 Ficathon](http://hard4brains.livejournal.com/51805.html) on some years ago. I like those prompts. And the title, par for the course, is from a song called 'Sewn' by The Feeling.


End file.
